21 April 2020

The Sweetest Thing

I read a writing prompt this morning -- something about the sweetest thing your significant other has ever done for you.

At first I thought of all the little cumulative sweet things my fiancé does for me -- the way he hugs me when I'm sad, how he makes me food and tea (somehow he makes it perfect every time?), how he will turn up the thermostat whenever I visit because I'm always cold (even though he's always hot) and always offers me a blanket just in case.

But then I thought of this past summer.

We met in mid-June and hit it off fairly quickly. On 20th July, we officially started dating. Also in July, I began a job delivering newspapers.

It was the single most soul-draining thing I have ever done in my life, and I hold a Bachelor of Arts degree in the performing arts from a Christian college (read: where you have to fake like everything is 100% okay 100% of the time). I would leave the house at 12.30am, pick up my papers from the drop location whenever they deigned to bring them (it was supposed to be 1am but was sometimes as late as four), and then drive around the richest (and hilliest) neighbourhood in town in the dark, searching in vain for house numbers. I delivered roughly 120 papers a night for 21 cents each (yes, in 2019 in a first-world country). I was spending $20 on gas every single night to accomplish this feat. I made only enough money to pay my (absurdly cheap) rent and put gas in my vehicle -- I had long stopped eating by this point, which worked in my favour as there wasn't enough money left for food anyway.

Last year, you may remember me lamenting how nobody ever cares about my birthday. I had originally planned to go visit my now-fiancé on my birthday last year, but then he found out he was supposed to be at a major out-of-province family function that weekend and they had to leave that day. As I mentioned in my blog post from that week, I was devastated. I was too far away from my family to make a day trip and still manage to work that night and nearly all of my friends were in Saskatchewan (or farther). I was facing the very real prospect of being alone on my birthday. We planned for me to come visit Jacob the day before my birthday so I could see him at least close to my birthday (the way I've always had to settle for social things surrounding my birthday).

Then, on 30 July (my birthday is the second), the drop supervisor at my job -- ordinarily a huggy, demonstrative person -- began showing me a little more affection than was appropriate in a workplace setting. He began literally pulling me into hugs and then kissed me without asking. I was too shocked to say anything to him, but the next day (31st), I texted Jacob (and my boss) about it.

My boss didn't get back to me (at least not till after my shift started). I still felt unsafe, and since Jacob couldn't drive out directly that night, I gave him the drop address and contact info for my boss and my parents, dressed in as many layers as I could stand in southern Alberta in late July (to hinder any moves my supervisor might try to make), and, as I approached the drop site, called Jacob, connected my Apple earbuds and put my phone -- with the line still open -- in my pocket and ran the cord under my shirt, leaving the earbuds (including the microphone) hanging over my collar so he could hear everything that happened. The agreement was if I hung up for any reason without giving a reason or saying goodbye to him, he would call the police.

What happened that night is a completely different story (which will probably show up on this blog eventually as it's a great story), but suffice to say, the next day -- 1 August -- when I went to visit him, I was still unsettled about the whole situation. I had not even been working that job one month, but I was already planning on quitting.

We had dinner with his parents that night, and over the course of dinner, Jacob mentioned that he was thinking of coming with me to work that night to make sure my supervisor didn't try anything. This was the first I'd heard about this plan, but I was pleasantly surprised at the prospect. It was arranged that he would stay the night after my shift finished with his grandmother, as she lived significantly closer to where I was living and his parents were going to be picking her up the next morning on the way to the family gathering anyway.

So at 11.30pm we set out in my van, talking and playing music. At one point somewhere on Highway 21, my phone dinged.

"Who's that?" I said, as I often do whenever I hear a phone (any phone, much to the annoyance of everyone I've ever lived with).

He looked and said it was my best friend.

"Oh, what does she want?" I asked.

"You should know," he said. "Guess."

"It's J, it could be literally anything," I said.

"What time is it?"

I glanced down at the clock. "12.12. Why?"

"What day is it?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to say 'Thursday, why?' but it suddenly dawned on me. August second. My birthday. I had (somewhat intentionally) forgotten about it.

He saw the realisation dawn on my face and said, "Why do you think I'm here?"

It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to cry.

I had thought he was just coming along to make sure I was safe -- which is sweet enough -- but it turned out he had been planning for days to come along with me to work after my visit, just so he would be with me for at least a couple hours on my birthday because he knew how much I wanted to be with someone that day.

He stayed to the side and kept an eye on things at the drop, helped me deliver the papers, and then we ate breakfast at 4.30am in an A&W parking lot as the sun rose behind us. He apologised for not having a gift for me, but the sacrifice he made to spend just a few hours with me meant more than anything he could ever have paid for.

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